


Practical Lessons in Auror Methodology

by nqdonne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry, Auror Partners, Auror Training, Aurors, Car Sex, Community: hp_springsmut, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Rentboys, Rimming, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 12:59:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1107122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nqdonne/pseuds/nqdonne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's in his last year of training with just one thing standing in the way of becoming a full-fledged Auror – partnering with Zacharias Smith.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Practical Lessons in Auror Methodology

**Author's Note:**

> Written for hp_springsmut 2007. Pre-DH canon.

**Assignment**

Harry fidgeted in the hard, plastic-backed chair as Kingsley droned on about “new situations,” “endurance and tests of character” and the “tough road ahead.” Going through the motions of this assignment meeting seemed pointless – he'd obviously be assigned to work with Ron. There was only him, Susan Bones, Zacharias Smith and Harry who had made it to the advanced track of third year Auror training and Harry and Ron had been teamed together in every facet of training up to this point. They were a brilliant team, even if Harry carried the weight a little from time to time... but, still, it was perfect – Harry had the instinct, Ron the strategy. It was the same thing that got them through the war, though Harry had to begrudgedly admit that Zacharias's skill for curse breaking might have had something to do with it, as well. His moment of glory on the battlefield as Harry struggled to destroy the last Horcrux was certainly the only reason they were sitting next to each other in advanced training. Harry was looking forward to not seeing the prat again for the majority of the next year, as Zach would, of course, be working with Susan - 

“Potter and Smith, you'll be together,” Kingsley boomed.

Harry did a double take and said, “Absolutely not” as Zacharias blurted, “No fucking way.” Harry set him with a nasty look.

“But Kingsley, err Shacklebolt, sir, I've been working with Ron all this time -” Harry said, trying his best to sound placating and reasonable.

“Weasley is assigned to Bones.” Kingsley's tone brooked no argument.

“I don't mind switching, sir,” Susan said helpfully.

“No, Bones – you're assigned to Weasley for a reason. All four of you” - he looked at Harry, Ron, Zach and Susan in turn - “are too comfortable with each other. The real test of an Auror is what he or she does in a foreign or unpleasant situation. So we're putting you in a foreign,” he indicated Ron and Susan “and an unpleasant,” - Zacharias snorted at the understatement - “situation for your third and final year of training. I don't care if you're unhappy with it, gentlemen, it's the head office's decision and it's final.” He paused for effect before returning to his speech. “Now, there will be four sections of your training over the next year...”

***

Drowning his sorrows in a butterbeer was not doing the trick. Harry still felt like shite. This was awful. Beyond awful. What the hell was he going to do over the next year? He could barely stand Zacharias, let alone work with him.

“It's not so bad, mate,” a decidedly tipsy Ron tried to assure him.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Zach... he... you... shite, I got nothing. You're fucked, mate.” Ron smiled wanly, in a way Harry thought was meant to communicate sympathy.

“Thanks,” he said, grimacing. “At least you got Susan. Susan's nice.”

Ron nodded, thumbing the rim of his beer bottle. “Nice arse, too.”

“Don't let Hermione hear you say that.”

“I'm a bloke,” Ron explained, eyes slightly unfocused. “Hermione understands that.” They settled into silence as Ron tried to sell himself his own reasoning. He failed. “Don't tell her, okay?” 

“Right,” Harry laughed, taking a swig of his own drink. “Where is she anyway? Surely she'd love to come and lecture me on how it shouldn't matter who I'm teamed with and Zacharias is an all right bloke anyway.”

“She's working late. Something about the House Elf workers’ union hitting a snag.”

“Oh? What kind of snag?”

“They don't want a workers’ union.”

Harry chortled. “That must really have Hermione's knickers in a twist.”

Ron took a pull of his beer. “Yep. But it's okay. It just means we'll have angry, frustrated sex tonight.”

“That's a good thing?”

“Of course. She gets on top, rides me real hard...”

Harry made a face and played feeling sick. “Ugh, stop that. TMI, mate.”

“Err, sorry. Forgot, you know. Guy-girl stuff and all.”

“It's not because I'm gay, Ron. It's because I don't want to hear about my best friends' sex life.”

“Fine, whatever,” Ron grumbled, signalling the barmaid to bring them another round. Once he'd caught the proprietor's eye, his gaze drifted toward the door of the crowded pub and Harry saw him flinch and then narrow his eyes in distaste.

“Fucking wanker has some nerve showing up here,” he muttered and Harry followed the direction of his stare.

Zacharias. And, fuck, he was with Terry Boot. Harry's ex. This day was just _not_ going his way. Before Harry could come up with a game plan to get them out of there, Zach and Terry were standing before their table, carrying two beers and an annoyed and nervous look, respectively.

“Smith,” Ron ground out, glaring.

“Weasley.” Zach looked over at Harry, and let out his name in one big huff. “Potter.”

“Smith,” Harry answered as politely as one can when starring daggers at someone. He softened his tone somewhat, but did not look at Terry as he greeted him. “Terry.”

“Harry,” Boot said, smiling goofily.

Oh dear God, please don't let him make a joke about their names rhyming. 

“Ha! Harry and Terry, still funny eh?” Terry laughed. Harry kept himself from banging his head against the table, but only just. Why had he gone out with him? WHY?

Oh, yeah, because he'd been just off an intense month-long training exercise and was really, really horny.

“Hmm, yeah, Terry. Still funny.” Harry gave a weak smile. He noticed Zacharias roll his eyes.

“So what the fuck are you doing here, Smith?” Ron spat.

“Having a drink, what do you think I'm doing?” Zacharias returned aggressively. 

“In our fuckin' pub though? You know Harry and I like to come here. Can't believe you'd show your face after today.”

“What are you on about, Weasley? I was assigned as Harry's partner, I'd hardly call that reason not to go to the same pub. Grow up.”

“Now listen here, you smug bastard,” Ron started from his chair, but Harry tugged him back down.

“Ron, not helping, thanks,” Harry hissed in his ear then looked up at Zach and Terry. “We'll just be leaving then.”

“No! 'm not leaving, they should!” Ron struggled against Harry's grip.

Terry, who was cowering slightly behind Zacharias, spoke up. “No, that's okay, Harry – Zach and I can go -”

“No!” Zach spat. “We've just as much right to be here.” He breathed heavily through his nose, clearly trying to contain his anger. 

Terry chuckled nervously, placing himself physically between the two parties whilst sending Harry an apologetic look. “We were just heading past you lot anyway. There's a table back there. We can just stay out of each other's way, then.” 

“Not fuckin' likely,” Ron slurred. “Harry's stuck with your ugly arse for the next year. Poor fuckin' sod.”

Harry sighed. He wasn't nearly drunk enough for this. “Fine,” he said, resigned.

“Fine,” Zach returned curtly, then grabbed Terry's arm and steered him toward the back of the pub.

Once they were out of sight, Harry downed his fresh beer in one go while Ron dug his nails into the wood groves of the pub table and muttered to no one in particular. 

“Wish Fred and George were here, they'd show 'im one.”

“Sure Ron,” Harry said off-handedly, pushing at his glasses to massage his temples. Kingsley was a fucking prick. 

Damn it, he had to take a piss. Harry bumbled off to the gents, stumbling through the door, past two rickety-looking stall doors to the urinals. As he was undoing his trousers and reaching for his dick, the door creaked open behind him and another man took a place next to him. 

Fuck it; it was Zacharias.

They stood side by side (wasn't there some kind of _rule_ about that?), hips thrown forward, pricks in hand as they relieved themselves, staring straight ahead, not talking. But then Zach broke the monotony of their piss hitting the tiles and spoke, but still looked anywhere but forward.

“You're a prick, Potter. And your mate's a fuckin' knob.”

“He's not a fucking knob.”

“But you're a prick?”

“Fuck off.”

Zach sniggered in response. “I'm not happy being your partner either, you know. You're shit at  
charms and you're fucking impulsive. You'll likely get me killed.”

“I did a pretty good job of not getting you killed before.”

“As did I you.”

“Some fancy charm work doesn't count.”

“It's all the same in the end. You're alive; he's dead.”

He was right, but fuck if Harry was going to admit it.

“All I know, Smith, is that I'm really fucking glad the first section of training is combat initiatives. I'll really enjoy kicking your arse.”

Not waiting for Zacharias' response, Harry shook off, tucked himself in, did up his trousers and left.

 

**Advanced training, module one: Combat and Capture**

Zacharias wrenched back violently, landing on his back with a thud. Harry smirked, pocketing his wand and striding forward.

“And that is why you don't use a Stinging Hex without putting up a Shielding Spell, Smith.”

Zach lifted his head up off the mat and hissed, “I know that. Don't be such a fucking know-it-all.”

Harry stopped just in front of him, towering over his prone form. “That's rich, coming from you.” He offered his hand, which Zach grudgingly took and hauled himself up on his feet.

“Please,” he said, pulling his hand free of Harry's and wiping it on his trousers. “The mighty Harry Potter knows _everything_. Always has done. Fucking wanker.”

“Stop referring to me in third person. And are you talking about the _DA_? Grow up, Zach.”

“Me? What about you? Unnecessary force, I think it's called.”

“It was a simple Expelliarmus.”

“Not coming from you, it wasn't, fucking overzealous prat.”

“Why are you such a jackass, Zach?” Harry tried to swallow his anger, but at seeing the aggressive set of Zacharias' shoulders, the cold glare of his eyes, it swelled up and instinct took over. “Why do you always have to contradict me, huh? It's been like this from day one.”

“Maybe because from day one you were an overblown, self-satisfied prick,” Zacharias bit back angrily. “You don't own the bloody universe. Some people are just as smart and talented as you are.”

“I never thought I was more talented than every one else! I can't help it if some bloody prophecy said I had to fight him, if I turned out to be good at something.”

“It wasn’t just you who had to fight him. We all did. And you didn't fucking defeat You Know Who all by yourself.” 

“Call him Voldemort, for fuck's sake, you're a member of the fucking Order, not a five-year-old.”

“Only a _member of the Order_? I recall being more than just a member. I'm the one who helped you defeat the son of a bitch, remember? Show a little gratitude, Potter.”

Harry's anger boiled over and he lunged at Zach, but was stopped short by Moody's gravely bark echoing throughout the practise hall. 

“You two! Stop your squabbling and get back to the exercise.” He hobbled up to them. “If you can't spar with each other for ten minutes without squawking like a bunch of housewives, I'll not recommend you for combat simulation. And without my recommendation, you fail. You understand me?”

Harry and Zach both muttered their assent, looking anywhere but at each other. They'd heard this speech many times in the last month, not that it had stopped them from arguing at every opportunity and throwing a few punches on more than one occasion.

“Get out of my sight,” Moody snapped. “If you haven't learned to work with each other by tomorrow, you're out.” Moody made his way back across the room to the exit, his magical eye swivelling back to watch them. As soon as he was out of sight, Zach shoved Harry violently.

“This is all your fucking fault.”

“Me?”

“Yes,” Zacharias spat, flicking his wand in the direction of his arms and legs, disabling the magical padding charms set there. “You've been at me since we were assigned, pushing me down at every opportunity.” He stormed in the direction of the changing rooms.

“Because you've been a jackass!” Harry followed after him, disabling his own charms as he went.

Zacharias didn't answer and when Harry walked into the changing room, he already had his shirt off and his trousers halfway down his hips. Since half-naked men, no matter who the form was attached to, did something for Harry's libido, he made sure to keep his eye lines north of Zach's deliciously flushed chest and collarbone.

“Look,” Zach said, teeth-clenched, “I've tried to be civil, I have. I want this to work, for my own sake. All I've ever wanted to do was be an Auror. But every time I make any effort to be friendly either you or your ginger pit bull lash out at me. I'm fucking sick of it.” He pointed a finger at Harry. “Don't fuck this up for me.”

“That's nice. Really makes me want to help you,” Harry sneered, pulling his own shirt over his head and tossing it on the bench.

“Help me and I'll help you, if you even want it. Sometimes I don't think you even fucking care, you're just doing what's expected of you.” He threw open his locker with a bang and started pulling out fresh clothes. “Why are you even here?” he continued, talking into the metal box so his voice came out both muffled and strangely amplified. “Did you ever stop to think that some of us may really want this? May need the job?” 

“I want this,” Harry said firmly, as he shimmied a fresh shirt over his shoulders and down his torso.

“Not enough,” Zacharias spat, moving back over to Harry until he was nearly in his face. “Not as much as I do. Why do you think I joined your stupid group? I may not have liked you or your merry gang of hooligans, but I sure as hell wasn't learning anything from Umbridge. I needed the OWLs to get into NEWT level Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

Snorting, Harry returned, “I figured you did it just to spite me.”

“Don't give yourself that much credit.” Zacharias wrestled aggressively with his shirt before starting on his trousers

Harry grit his teeth. “Listen, I don't want to be kicked out any more than you do. We're clearly going to have to try harder to work together.”

“You mean _you'll_ have to try harder.”

Harry bit the inside of his lip to refrain from sniping at him and they simply glared at each other.

Zacharias' clicked his jaw back and forth a few times then relented under Harry's gaze. “Fine. We'll both make an effort. You keep Weasley away from me. Hell, you keep _all_ Weasleys away from me. And I'll... well, you fucking tell me. Christ if I know why you hate me so much.”

Resisting his first urge to shout back at him something impulsive and impassioned that would, undoubtedly make things worse, Harry breathed harshly through his nose trying to gain some composure.

“Just... shut your fucking mouth once and a in while, okay?” He managed eventually. “And don't contradict me so much. And, please don't ever bring Terry Boot round again.”

Zacharias snorted and the mood shifted. “Oh, come on, that was funny. 'Terry and Harry! So funny!' insert stupid grin here.” Zach pantomimed Terry's expression and Harry couldn't help but laugh.

“Shuddup.”

“He's an all right bloke, Terry, but he can be a right pussy sometimes,” Zach continued. They shared a grin. “You wanna head down the pub for a pint? If I'm gonna start being nice to you, I'll need to get pissed first.” 

Harry pushed down the instinct to react to Zacharias' pig-headedness with further pig-headedness. It would be the only way to make this partnership work.

“Yeah, all right,” he answered. “But I think first you should put some clothes on.” He indicated Zach's trousers, which were pooled round his ankles.

 

**Advanced training, module two: Concealment and Disguise**

“I can't believe I'm disguised as a fucking rentboy.”

Harry tried not to laugh at Zacharias, who had cast a Glamour so he would appear to be about three years younger and a hell of a lot more wanton. He wore nothing but a black mesh shirt - through which you could see his nipples, currently standing on end in the crisp October air, Harry noted – and a tight pair of cropped cotton-blend short-shorts. Charcoal lined his blue eyes, making them pop against the sea of black he wore and the lustrous blond curls that fell softly round his ears.

“You didn't change your hair,” Harry said as they stood in the damp, rank cobble-stone alley.

“Men seem to like blonds.”

“Hopefully not too much.” 

“What, you want all the men to yourself?” Zacharias grinned wickedly at him.

“Not this sort.” Harry pushed playfully on his shoulder before becoming serious again. “No, we just don't want you getting into any precarious situations. Remember, an Obliviate is a last resort in this exercise, and we get docked serious points for using one.”

“I know. I don't plan on picking up any men. I have a girlfriend,” Zach said, squaring his shoulders and trying to look manly. Harry tried not to snort with laughter – this was a favourite line of Zach's, but Harry would believe it when said girlfriend actually made an appearance.

Fidgeting with his shorts and trying to not-so-subtly adjust his frontal bits in them, Zach turned to the street to inspect their assignment. A group of dirty, ill-fed teenage boys lingered in front of a broken down building, leering at passersby.

Harry marvelled at it all – he and Zach were getting on remarkably well. Their truce-of-sorts had led to an all-night drinking session, which had led to two massive hangovers the next day which had garnered them mutual sympathy for the other when Moody reamed them out for a lack of focus and shoddy work. Despite their poor performance that day (Harry had accidentally made daffodils spring from Moody's ears), their improved rapport was clear to Moody, and he didn't fail them.

Since then it had been slow going – they still fought constantly – but the heat behind the arguments had dissipated. 

“Frankly, I don't see what rentboys have to do with dark wizards anyway,” Zach said, peering ahead at the other boys and shifting in his – oh dear – knee high boots with buckles all up the side. Harry shuffled a bit in his own comparatively-drab brogues.

“Um, I think the idea is that they're the most likely clientèle,” Harry said, moving towards Zach. “You know, being in Knockturn Alley and all.”

“What, because all dark wizards are obviously gay?”

“More like because Lucius Malfoy is reputed to be.”

“Oh.”

Harry could swear he saw a slight flush in Zacharias' cheek, though at his angle, he couldn't be sure.

“Didn't you read the brief?”

“I didn't have time. I had to go buy this ridiculous get-up.”

“You mean that's not just transfigured clothing? You _bought_ all that? Where on earth did you go?”

“Wardour Street.”

“Muggle London?”

“Yes, well, I wasn't going to troll around respectable Wizarding establishments for these things. And where did you get your clothes, then?” He indicated Harry's too-tight jeans and fitted lycra shirt.

“I transfigured them.”

“You _own_ those?” Zach looked at at him with disdain. “God, you _are_ gay,” he muttered under his breath.

Harry rolled his eyes. “It's a pair of jeans I made smaller and the shirt I go clubbing in. It's not rocket science.”

Zach huffed, looking embarrassed. “Well, I'm glad you ditched your glasses, at least.” He leaned closer. “And you changed your eye colour.”

“Green's a little obvious.”

“Yeah. Okay, you ready?”

“Sure.” Harry gulped nervously. He really hoped no one would try and pick him up.

Zach hesitated. “What's the brief, then?”

“Bloody hell, Zach,” Harry said, annoyed. “We talk to the other rentboys, try to glean some intel on Death Eater clientèle.”

“So Lucius Malfoy isn't going to show up or anything?” Zach was definitely blushing this time.

“No. He and his cronies are in hiding. You already know this Zach,” Harry chided. “But Kingsley's hoping one of the stupider ones might have slipped up, come here recently. If we can figure out which rentboys he favours, we could set a trap.” 

“You mean _they_ could set a trap. We trainees are only here for free research and manual labour.”

“Exactly.”

“You know, by the time we've become full-fledged Aurors, all the Death Eaters will have been rounded up.”

“Isn't that a good thing?”

“Wouldn't leave much for us to do.”

“There's always something for us to do. Evil has an annoying habit of popping up. Come on, let's go.”

They crossed over the street to join the other rentboys. There were three or four milling around, and all but one set Zach and Harry with death glares as they encroached on their territory. The one friendly in the bunch approached them.

“Oy, you lot new?”

“Um, yeah,” Harry answered, affecting what he thought was a good street accent. 

The other boy, who looked about eighteen, inspected them a moment. “'m Ian.”

“I'm Oliver. And this is... Fagin.” God, Harry hoped this kid wasn't literary. They really should have come up with aliases before they came out.

“Nice ta meet'cha,” Ian grinned a partly toothless smile. “Don't mind the other boys,” he indicated the trio of sullen teens lurking on the peripheral, “they don't like the new ones. The regulars, they get excited, ignore their favourites for a while. And I reckon you two will be the quite the hit – a duo, eh? Do you charge twice as much, then, or is it like two for the price of one?”

“Oh, we're not,” Harry stuttered, as Zach made protests of his own.

“Really?” Ian said, his tone wry. “You should do, then. You'd be quite the novelty.”

Harry stole a glance at Zach, who was blushing ferociously. Admittedly, Zach looked quite fetching in his rentboy get up. He was reminiscent of when they were at school – his features still cherubic, not hard as they'd grown with age and stress from the war. If Harry were being honest, he'd been peripherally attracted to Zacharias for years, but his acidic personality and aptness to contradict everything Harry said and did was enough of a turn off that Harry's superficial attraction to Zach was a moot point. Plus there was the matter of the imaginary girlfriend.

“Listen,” Ian instructed them. “Just make sure you pay Madam Jenni at the Madrigal there,” he pointed to a decrepit inn on the corner, “by the week or by the night. So long as you pay, she don't care what you get up to. And watch yourself with the johns. The twitchier they look, the nastier they're like to be. I got this one bloke who tried to stick a lit candle up me bum. Told 'im to stick if up his own, stole his purse and got my arse out of there.”

Not sure if he was supposed to laugh, Harry maintained a grim expression. “You had any other tricky punters? Really dark, kinky bastards?” he asked, hoping to hit pay dirt on their first five minutes on the job, so they wouldn't have to spend weeks out here, trying to avoid being solicited. 

“None I'm like to talk to you about, mate. We're not that friendly round 'ere.” Smirking, Ian sauntered away, likely back to commiserate with the other rentboys and share his piece. 

“Fuck,” Zach said.

“What?”

“This is going to take a lot of work.”

“I think that's the point. Maintaining a disguise and cover for a prolonged amount of time.”

“There has to be something unethical about sending trainees undercover in the sex industry. Especially the gay sex industry.”

“Stop whinging, Zach. Right now we need to just sit tight, pretend we're gagging for a shag and hope those other blokes will warm up to us. Might want to try chatting up this Madam Jenni, too.”

***

Once Harry and Zach had cast adequate Lust-Repelling Charms on themselves, men soliciting them wasn't a problem (not that it stopped Zach mentioning his girlfriend three or four times a night). They spent every night over the next two weeks trolling the same stretch of Knockturn Alley, trying to win over the other rentboys and feigning disappointment and worry over not turning any tricks. A Glamour only being able to do so much, they both ceased regular bathing and eating in order to achieve a sufficient half-starved and dirty look. Harry felt disgusting, but it seemed to be working – on the twelfth night, one of the other rentboys came over and struck up a conversation with them, seemingly out of pity.

The information was vague, but still good, and the rush of joy Harry felt at having been partly successful in their assignment distracted him such that he didn't notice a man in a cloak chat up Zach. It wasn't until he heard catcalling from the other boys and a few half-hearted claps that he realised Zach had just pulled, and looked round just in time to see him heading into the Madrigal with a bloke following behind. 

Harry's mind raced – what about the Lust-Repelling Charm? What if this was one of their dark wizards and he had seen through the charm and Confunded Zach? Zach was going upstairs to do who-knew-what with him. Something like jealousy fluttered in his stomach, which he hastily ignored. He told himself it was concern for his partner that drove him inside the decrepit inn, a strong Confundus Charm set on himself so no one would notice.

Unsure of where Zach had gone, Harry followed the stench of sex upstairs to a dark, crooked hallway. Standing on the landing, he listened for conversation, as opposed to the squick-squeak of beds hitting the wall, and after making two sweeps of the hall, eventually found Zach's voice behind the door of room 201.

It was just a low rumble, but Harry could make out “job” and “quick” and despite the lurch in his stomach, resisted blowing the door off its hinges and rescuing his partner – it would be no good ruining their cover now, not when they were so close.

Checking that his Confundus Charm was still in order, Harry dropped to his knees and pulled out his wand, waving over a section of the wall until it went from grainy to clear. He could see Zach now, sitting on the edge of a double bed covered in dingy cream-coloured sheets as he peered anxiously at the man beside him. Harry had no idea what he was playing at, acting the coy rentboy when the situation clearly called for a quick Obliviate and exit – the bloke, now that Harry could get a good look at him, looked harmless enough, certainly not a Death Eater, more like a normally staid business man out for his first endeavour with a willing young boy. Still, they were only trainees on a recognizance mission, which hardly warranted giving sexual favours to maintain cover.

Zacharias didn't seem to think so. The man beside him lifted his cloak at the front, exposing a pair of black underpants from which he pulled out an already turgid prick. Harry's jaw dropped in amazement as Zacharias slid off the end of the bed and knelt in front of the man, laying his hand at the base of his prick before lowering his mouth over the tip. While he couldn't see much from his position, Harry could at least tell that Zacharias was enjoying himself, if the insistent bobbing of his head and soft moans were anything to go by.

So much for his being straight.

Harry's prick, it seemed, was also enjoying itself, and it took all his resolve and concentration not to start wanking in the hallway. This was the closest he'd come to sex in months and it was fucking turning him on.

He wondered, off-hand, if casting the Transparency Charm on the wall would lose him points on his character test. Did Aurors of good character like to watch while their partners gave another man a blow job?

Zacharias seemed to finish and – oh! Harry noted with more pleasure than he probably should have – swallowed the man's come down before the man pulled Zach up from his crouch, tugged at the fastenings of his shorts and proceeded to pull him off. The sight of Zacharias with his head tipped back and moaning as his cock disappeared into the other man's hand was more than Harry could manage. He ended the Transparency Charm and collapsed against the wall, shifting against the hard denim of his jeans in an attempt to sate his urge to wank.

 

**Advanced training, module three: Stealth and Tracking**

The damp, February chill seemed to have set into Harry's bones, and he shivered against the cold, steel door frame of the 1998 VW Passat he and Zacharias were seated in. An all-day tracking exercise had turned into a tedious, overnight stake-out and, as they'd ended up in a Muggle neighbourhood, transfiguring a boot into a car had seemed the easiest way to blend into their setting. Unfortunately, Harry's transfiguration skills were a bit patchy, and they'd ended up with no heat.

“I'm fucking cold and it's your fault,” Zach said petulantly from the passenger's seat, arms crossed over his chest as he scowled.

“I offered to let you transfigure the boot.”

“You know I hate transfiguration.”

“Just saying.”

“Whatever.” 

Silence stretched between them and Harry tried to entertain himself to pass the time without losing his focus. Namely, he tried not to think about Zach naked. The last three months had been excruciating, so far as Harry's creeping sexual attraction to Zach was concerned. Seeing Zach with that john had simply been the catalyst and ever since, everything Zach did that used to irk the hell out of Harry was framed in a new light. Slowly but surely, Harry had gone from being peripherally attracted to him to wanting to rip his clothes off to, now, almost liking him as a person. This was very dangerous territory.

Zach stretched like a cat in the seat next to him. “Fuckin' hell, this is boring.”

“Hmm,” Harry murmured, making a mental list for his next Tesco run to distract himself from visions of naked. He was so distracted by compiling in his mind the ingredients he'd need to make a moussaka that he didn't hear Zacharias undo his zipper. He did, however, hear the slip-slap of skin against skin and looked over to find that Zach had his dick out, and was working it over with his hand.

“What the fuck do you think you're doing?!” Harry exclaimed, taken aback.

“I'm bored, cold and horny,” Zach replied nonchalantly. “This,” he bit back a moan, “should solve all three of my problems.” 

Shielding his eyes with his cupped left hand, Harry spoke in the direction of dashboard. “That's vulgar, Smith.”

_And I'm fucking turned on._

“You're such a prude, Potter. You've already seen me dress as a rentboy, a little wank will hardly kill you.”

If only Zach knew how much he'd seen. As far as he was concerned, Harry bought his story about Confunding the gentleman he'd gone upstairs with. Harry couldn't help but wonder why it was Zach hadn't done just that – why the blow job and mutual masturbation? He shifted in his seat to hide his now burgeoning erection.

“Care to join me?”

Harry nearly jumped a foot in the air and whipped his head round to gape at Zacharias. “What?!”

“Why not?” Zach shrugged. “It's a great way to pass the time, and I don't mind.”

“Oh, great, you don't mind if I have a wank with you, so sure, I'll pull my dick out!”

“You don't have to be so sarcastic about it,” Zach huffed. “Seriously, though. Why don't you? I can tell you're hard. You'll get blue balls just sitting there. Especially in this cold.”

“I'm not -” Harry stopped himself from saying anything embarrassing. “Do you always say exactly what you're thinking?”

“Yes. What's the point in keeping quiet when you have something to say?”

“Grand philosophy, but it's really fucking annoying.”

“I know. I kind of enjoy that part. You have no idea how flustered people get. Well, maybe you do.” He laughed. “Come on, don't be a wuss. Take it out.”

Harry bit his lip in thought. He knew he'd regret it, but all the loudest, most prominent parts of his brain (namely the section concerned with his dick) shouted YES!, so he thought, what the hell. Slumping down in his seat and relaxing his legs, he eased his prick from his trousers, hissing as the hot flesh met with the chill air. 

He peered anxiously over at Zacharias before taking his dick in hand. A smirk played on Zach's features momentarily before he went back to stroking himself, closing his eyes and throwing his head back against the headrest. Harry reckoned this was his cue to see to himself, so spitting roughly into his palm, he anchored his one hand round the base of his cock and balls and started working the other over his dick, bringing it to full erection with half a dozen strokes or so.

There was only the sound of hands slapping against flesh and heavy breaths being puffed against the damp, chilly air as Harry lost himself in his own arousal. Unlike usual, he called up no particular images to get himself off, but instead focused on the sounds Zacharias was making, or at least, on the ones he could distinguish from his own. He'd never jerked off with another man like this, not without it being part of or a lead-in to sex, and he felt strangely laid-out and vulnerable sitting next to his partner in the car, wanking into the night. 

He stole a glance at Zacharias and was unnerved to find Zacharias starring right back at him. He also seemed to have moved closer – a sweaty forearm bumped against his intermittently as it jerked up, down and about and Harry couldn't recall it doing that before. They locked stares and before Harry could react, Zach was grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him forward, pressing their open, panting mouths together in a wet, desperate kiss.

Unable to control himself, Harry moaned into the kiss, inching his body closer while splaying his legs further apart to accommodate this new angle. The jerks of his hand slowed to match the rhythm of their tongues as they moved against each other, and Zacharias returned a moan of his own. 

“Fuck, wanna touch you,” Zacharias panted, breaking away from the kiss and slapping Harry's hand away from his cock. He started pumping at Harry's erection with his own, practised pace and Harry let his head lull in the crook of Zach's neck as the firm grip and hot breath on his cheek drove him toward orgasm. 

It wasn't until it was almost upon him that Harry had the presence of mind to twist round and take Zacharias' abandoned prick in hand and start stroking at it with an admittedly awkward, Harry not being even remotely ambidextrous, but enthusiastic manner. They were both coming within the space of thirty seconds, though Harry hardly noticed who came first or second (though they certainly did not come simultaneously, as poetic as that would have been).

Once the euphoria of orgasm had passed, they pulled awkwardly away from one another and huddled as close to their respective doors as they could. Harry was pleased, at least, that Zach seemed equally perturbed by what they had just done and was doubly glad that he hadn't been the one to grab the other's cock first. At least Harry wasn't the one who claimed to have a girlfriend.

***

They passed the tracking exercise, but only just. In the frenzy of their mutual masturbation and subsequent awkwardness, they'd missed their target leaving his home and heading down to the pub for a pint.

Luckily, thanks to both of their considerable drinking habits, when they popped down to said pub for a post-orgasm, quasi-guilty, incredibly awkward drink (and much needed loo break), they were able to plant their mark with a more sophisticated tracking spell, and the assignment was saved. 

They refrained from mentioning to their supervisors _why_ they had been in the pub.

 

**Advanced training, module four: Disarmament and Observation**

They spent that next month fastidiously avoiding one another. Luckily, the rest of the stealth and tracking unit involved several longer assignments that they were meant to do partly by themselves. Harry savoured the time away from Zach, and used more than one of his free evenings to hit the Muggle nightclub scene and take a few men home. He needed the release of that tension.

Zach, according to Ron, actually _did_ have a girlfriend, and had brought her to the pub one night when Ron, Susan and Hermione were having a drink. Harry was strangely pleased to hear she was “a bit of a minger” and tactfully didn't mention to Ron that he had witnessed, and participated in, not one but _two_ decidedly homosexual encounters with Zach. Harry wasn't going to waste his time on a bloke who couldn't figure himself the fuck out, and he sure as hell wasn't going to give Ron material to ridicule them both.

Then, in April, it was time for the last facet of training: the disarmament and observation unit. They threw them right into the deep end, sending Harry and Zach on a cat-and-mouse chase all over the English countryside, looking for an imaginary dark wizard. All they had to guide them was a vague “tip-off,” which they were meant to dissect, analyse, research and then follow up. If they did their work correctly, it would lead them to the big end of training simulation, where they'd do head to head combat with their instructors, all Polyjuiced and acting as well-known dark wizards. It was said to be the make or break simulation for all Auror trainees – fail the assignment, and three years of training went to waste.

So far, things were going splendidly, though Zach's refusal to look directly at Harry was rankling him slightly. They were out in the middle of nowhere creeping through a thick wood, looking for some sort of secret hide-out. Not too subtle, but that's why they called it on the assignment sheet.

“Fuck, I hope this doesn't take too long,” Zach muttered as they paused in a small clearing. Harry did a Four Points spell and checked it against their map.

“Why? Do you have to get home to your girlfriend?” It was a snippy thing to say, but Harry was cold and hungry, too.

Zach noticeably bristled. “And what if I do?”

“Then you're fucked, and you likely won't get fucked by anyone other than Kingsley any time soon,” Harry retorted, knowing it was overly dramatic and vulgar, but not caring. “We're lost.”

“What?”

Harry shook the map in his hand. “We're lost. We're at least twenty kilometres off the spot where we're meant to be. Are you sure you charmed the Portkey with the right coordinates?”

“Of course I charmed the Portkey with the right coordinates! I'm not the one who crap at charms, Potter!”

“Well, you must have fucked something up, because we're not even remotely in the right place.”

“How do you know you didn't miscalculate on the information? Or maybe you just don't know how to read a map. Give it to me.” He held out his hand.

Beginning to seethe, Harry handed it to him with so much force it nearly ripped in half.

“I didn't read the map wrong,” he bit out as Zach turned from him and went to study the map in the corner.

After a minute: “Fuck.”

“What?” Harry said with a testy preciseness.

“We're fucking lost.”

“Like I said.”

“I didn't configure the Portkey wrong, Potter. I know I didn't.”

“Fine. Then we just need to sit down, figure out where the hell we are and try to salvage this mess. If we can figure out an approximate distance, we can Apparate, maybe still meet the deadline.”

“We can't Apparate to somewhere we've never seen – we could end up through a wall or something, or in someone's living room. And then we'd _fail_.”

“We're going to fail anyway, at this point.”

“Fuck!” Zach shouted up at the trees and his voice reverberated round the clearing.

Harry paced back and forth, removing his glasses with one hand and pinching the bridge of his nose with the other. This was a disaster. He didn't know where the hell they were and he was about to throw away three years of training, all because he'd let his attraction to Zacharias get in the way. He didn't want to admit it, but his earlier wandering eyes and impromptu wank session in the loos might have been the reason this had all gone to hell – he just might have bungled up the coordinates by a degree or two. Who the hell ever thought giving Harry Potter a maths problem to solve was a good idea?

Thinking hard about the information they'd been working with and how his lust-addled mind might have interpreted the figures, Harry tried to come up with a feasible location to which they could Apparate. 

Harry thought of something. “Zach?” He came over, clearly still seething, but with a bit of panic setting in.

“Yeah?”

“I just thought of something.”

“Call the papers!” Zach retorted sarcastically, though the bite behind it was weak.

“Shut up. I'm serious. Listen – the information we got, it mentioned a relic of yore, a ritualistic site, yes?”

“Yes. Get to the point.”

“Why did we assume Stonehenge and therefore assume Dorset?”

“Because all the information clearly said Dorset?”

“What about Avebury?”

“Avebury? What the fuck about Avebury?”

“There's an ancient stone circle there, as well, thought to be an old ritual site. Maybe we should be in Wiltshire.”

“Wiltshire's a pretty big fucking county, Harry.”

“Yes, but we're clearly not meant to be in Dorset, Zach.”

They stared each other down until Zach huffed his resignation. “Fuck. And how do you suggest we get there? We're allowed only one, initial Portkey. Apparating is risky.”

“We can Apparate right to the site and go from there – it's late, so all the tourists will be gone, so no risk of running into Muggles.”

“And we're just supposed to guess where we're Apparating to?”

“I've been there, I can do it from memory.”

Zach looked weary. Harry sighed.

“You can side-along Apparate. Come here.” 

He looked as if it was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Don't be an idiot, Zach. The gay isn't catching. Your girlfriend won't find out.”

Zach scowled, but came over to Harry, settling unsurely in front of him.

“Just take my arm,” Harry instructed, holding out his right arm, which Zach reluctantly took until they stood shoulder to shoulder. Closing his eyes and concentrating on the field trip his class had taken when he was 8, Harry picked what he hoped was still a deserted spot and initiated the spell. Pressure surrounded him from all sides, his head feeling like it was about pop, and a groan from Zach told him that he had, at least, not left him behind ( _that_ was an awkward moment in his first Apparition test!).

They landed not two feet from an eight foot angular stone and Zach's dirty look told him that he, too, realised how close they'd come to ending up a permanent tourist fixture.

“Don't say anything,” Harry warned.

“Fine. Where to now, genius?”

“That way.” Harry pointed east.

“Why that way?”

“Because it's the opposite way of the cafe and museum? Not likely Death Eater haunts, really.”

“Shut up.”

“Don't contradict everything I say,” Harry shot back.

“But if I didn't do you that, you'd always muck things up, as everyone gives you carte blanche to do as you please.”

“Are we still arguing about this?”

“It's still true,” Zach answered curtly before stalking off in the direction Harry had suggested. Breaking into a short dash, Harry caught up with him as he reached the road, and they began heading toward the green and brown patched hills.

“Is there something horrible I did to you that I don't know about?” Harry asked, struggling to keep up with Zach's near-brutal pace.

“Other than being a pretentious Gryffindor?” Zach answered, his breath hitting the cold night air in murky-white puffs. “Not that I can think of.”

“God, Zach,” Harry lurched forward to grab Zach's arm and wrenched him to a stop so he would listen. “I am so sick of your Hufflepuff complex! I'm sorry that everyone pays attention to me. I don't ask for it.” He stepped closer, his patchy breaths mingling with Zach's. “You're just as good as I am. Is that what you want to hear?”

“Only if you actually believe it's true. I don't want Gryffindor handouts.” He tore his arm from Harry's grasp and kept going.

“They're not. It's. Dammit, Zach!” Harry jogged after him, frustrated, then switched to a brusque speed-walk. “Can you please get over whatever it is you have an issue with so we can finish this? I'll be happy to stay the fuck out of your way once we're Aurors, but we won't even get that far if you don't start cooperating. I am genuinely sorry for whatever it is I did to you. But we're not in school anymore, so please stop all that house bullshit.” 

He grabbed Zach again and forced him to a stop. “You've more than proven yourself. I think I've done the same. Let's just do this, together. Please.” He looked imploringly at Zach, who breathed harshly through clenched teeth a few times before relenting with a forceful click of his jaw.

“Fine. I think we're here, anyway.”

“What?”

Zach gave a sharp jab rightwards with his head. Harry followed the gesture and saw a warehouse not half a kilometre off the road, illuminated in the distance by a set of harsh spotlights.

“Looks like just the place for a simulation, don't you think?” Zach grinned.

Letting out a throaty, sceptical laugh, Harry shrugged his shoulders. “I guess it's worth checking out.”

***

They circled the perimeter of the building first, using a series of low-intensity spells to check for dark magic. When their wands lit red, they knew they'd found the right spot. They shared two large grins between them in lieu of trading “I told you so's.” Pointing with his hand, Harry indicated that he would go right, Zach left, and they'd meet inside the warehouse at a central point to share information. Ideally they would have put together elaborate maps indicating the layout of the facility and exact points of magical signature, but there wasn't enough time left to spend an hour on the re-con it would take to construct them.

Harry found a side door haphazardly locked; a simple Unlocking Spell allowed him to slip through, Disillusionment Charm in place so he could survey the inside mostly undetected. If any senior instructor caught-wise to them before he and Zach launched their offensive, they would fail. He pulled out his Invisibility Cloak, for good measure, and slipped it on and began slinking through the upper corridor. In the distance he could hear muffled music and jovial shouts, but he moved in the opposite direction, to his “side” of the building. Going into the first room he found off the hallway, Harry was somewhat disappointed to find an empty space, nothing but grey, exposed concrete walls with years of water damage rendering the door opposite a cracked, decrepit sight. 

He crossed the room swiftly and on the other side of the door found himself in a large, open space, the outer edge of the facility making up the right wall and a rusty rail on the left, over which he could see the main floor of what once must have been a manufacturing plant of some sort. Flimsy plaster walls divided the pit into some offices and large, open spaces where machinery, now gone, would have lain. He could see where the music was coming from – a group of five Death Eaters were cavorting around a Wizard radio in a state of drunkenness and half-undress as they fondled and heckled three nervous-looking young women. Locals they were set to debauch, no doubt, and Harry idly admired the thoroughness of thought that had gone into the simulation, though he didn't want to think which of his colleagues were playing the parts of the women.

Back on his side of the upper floor, Harry saw a closed-off room that must have once been the factory foreman's and went to investigate. A quick spell told him there was one magical signature in the room, and several instances of Dark Magic. Outside, the plastered walls were in the same decrepit state as everything else, and a hazy glow emanated through the dusty, warped glass of the double-windows on the side. Inside, Harry discovered as he delicately manoeuvred himself through the door which had been, thankfully, left ajar, the room was lush with antique furnishings and silk tapestries, which covered the chairs, love seat, bed and walls. It was a decadent love nest filled with flickering candlelight and the dense smell of sex. It became most obvious why this was as Harry's gaze moved past the lavish décor and found Lucius Malfoy on the bed, licking a broad swipe of his tongue over the shoulder blades of a boy of about seventeen, as he briskly moved his cock in and out of the boy's arse. 

Harry couldn't help gasping and he jumped back nearly a foot, flattening against the wall to steady himself. Luckily any noise he made was covered up by the cries of the boy Lucius was fucking, as he cried, “It hurts, sir, it hurts!” between moans.

Now Harry was _really_ impressed by his instructors' thoroughness.

He watched, entranced, as 'Lucius' (he had to remind himself that he wasn't _actually_ watching the elder Malfoy fuck someone) pounded into the boy in front of him, while the boy moaned, begged and pleaded things that made Harry blush and shift nervously as his trousers became tight. For a moment Harry thought perhaps his instructors had planned this on purpose, presenting him with just the sight that would have him distracted, but then he realised there was no way they could have known he'd be turned on by this when he'd had no idea himself. Harry rarely bottomed for anyone, let alone submit himself to the point of - Harry leaned forward to get a better look – to the point of using nipple clamps and a cock ring!

Harry got a better look at said nipple clamps and cock ring a moment later, as Lucius withdrew from the boy and ordered him to turn over. It was then that Harry saw the look on the boy's face and couldn't help his stomach wrenching or the taste of bile in his mouth. This boy could not be a willing participant, not with the expression of fear and apprehension that dominated his features, his posture. 

And as Lucius pulled his cane from the side of the bed and made the move to insert it where his prick had been, Harry clamped his eyes shut, wishing he could do the same for his ears, and realised in a panicked flood that there was _no way this could be a simulation._ His instructors weren't this depraved by half.

_Zacharias_.

Harry's eyes shot open, taking in the terrible sight of blood made black by the low-light before he bolted from the room. Zach was out there with _real Death Eaters_ and no idea that they were in real danger. Harry had to find him before -

“Lucius!” A voice boomed from the direction of the stairs and Harry jumped back into the shadows instinctively, forgetting that he was invisible as well as Disillusioned. 

A heavy body clanged up the metal stairs and called Malfoy's name again, saying under his breath so Malfoy couldn't hear (but Harry could) that he needed to 'stop fucking his boy and deal with this problem.'

Harry's heart dropped to his stomach as Walden Macnair reached the top landing, dragging an unconscious and bleeding Zach with him.

Fuck.

Macnair pulled Zach over the threshold of Lucius' room again, barking, “Lucius, get your fucking cane out of that boy's twat and listen to me. We have an intruder.”

Harry saw him drop Zach to the floor, and heard a groan from his partner. At least he was still alive. With Macnair, all bets were off.

Approaching the room cautiously, Harry flattened himself against the wall by the door and just listened.

“Oh, he's very pretty, isn't he?” Lucius drawled, and Harry imagined him circling Zach, his bloodied cock bouncing crudely. He tasted more bile in his mouth.

“He's one of Dumbledore's, Lucius,” Macnair said with edge.

“Dumbledore's dead, Walden,” came the sharp reply.

“He's one of _theirs_ , though. Probably an Auror. We should kill him.”

Harry's heart pounded as he heard only silence from the room. After a substantial pause, Lucius once again spoke.

“Not now. Perhaps later. First I'd like to wake our new friend up and... play with him a bit.”

Harry cursed inwardly. That sick bastard! He had to do something, but they were all alone out here, and Harry wasn't sure how to get a message to Kingsley and the others without attracting attention. Surely with Zach caught, they'd be looking for others...

His Patronus. Harry hadn't used it in ages, not as a way of summoning The Order, but it was the fastest way to get a message out without setting off any alarm bells, though the facility seemed to be rather poorly warded considering these were real Death Eaters, and not his Polyjuiced instructors. 

“And Walden,” came Lucius' voice again, “do check the building for others. If he is one of _them_ , he won't have come alone.”

Before Macnair could leave the room, Harry bolted for the door through which he'd come. He didn't want to abandon Zach, but the only way to send the Patronus without being detected was to go outside, and with Macnair searching the building...

Harry felt sick as he moved away toward the thin line of trees that dotted the perimeter. The thought of leaving Zach alone with Lucius Malfoy, even for five minutes... it just didn't bear thinking about. But he needed back up. He couldn't take on a bunch of Death Eaters, one of them Lucius Malfoy, by himself. As soon as he was a sufficient distance from the building, Harry cast his Patronus, hoping Kingsley, Moody or Tonks weren't far away. That taken care of, Harry turned right around and went back to the warehouse, hoping Macnair had dispersed the drunken Death Eaters throughout the building in search of him. All together, Harry didn't stand a chance, but if he encountered them one by one...

***

The first three were easy. Harry found them in the lower level factory floor, passed out while the three Muggle girls rifled through their wallets (imagine their surprise and annoyance at finding Wizard money!). Harry waited in his Invisibility Cloak until they were done and, once they were gone, performed Full Body Bind spells on the trio of Death Eaters.

Moving through the rest of the lower floor towards Lucius' room, Harry tried to stop himself shaking. He'd done this before, taking on Death Eaters, Voldemort even, but he'd never been completely alone. In fact, in the latter instance, Zach had been there. They made a good team, and now who knew what manner of depraved things Malfoy was doing to him. 

Quickening his pace, Harry rounded a corner a little too hastily and smacked right into one of Lucius' goons. He was, luckily, one of the ones with less-than-marginal intelligence, and stood starring, gobsmacked at the clear air before him, giving Harry enough re-coop time to raise his wand and throw a Disarming spell at him. Once his wand was sufficiently out of reach, Harry used the Body Bind Curse on him, as well – an elementary spell, but perfect for getting him out of the way quickly and moving on.

By Harry's calculations, that was everyone taken care of, save Macnair and Malfoy. Malfoy was surely upstairs dealing with Zach, which meant he need only be on the lookout for Macnair.

And, like clockwork, Harry moved into the next room and there he was – axe swinging at a cabinet as he shouted ‘aha!’, apparently expecting to find someone crouched inside. Harry tried not to be amused by his horror film logic – not that Macnair would have seen any anyway.

Macnair must have heard his deep chuckle, however, and he whipped around, wand now at the ready, axe at his side. At seeing nothing, he grinned a big, semi-toothless grin.

“Potter,” he intoned, stepping a foot towards Harry. “Still playing with invisibility, eh? Used to piss The Dark Lord off something rotten…”

Harry heard a click as a discreet Locking Spell took care of the door behind him. Fuck.

“Always wanted to have my fun with you.” Macnair continued moving forward in a creep as Harry wondered how quickly he could Stun Macnair and unlock the door. Macnair was infamous for being practically unstunnable; it was one of the only reasons he was still at large.

Harry considered Cruciatus before deciding on Sectumsempra. What better for Macnair than a spell that would flay him alive like an animal, and one created by one of his former compatriots, to boot. Knowing he wouldn’t get this done with one shot or flailing around in an Invisibility Cloak, in one swift move Harry threw the cover to the ground and shot off the strongest Stunnning Spell he knew. It was enough to change the look of amused triumph from Macnair’s dark eyes to one of aggrieved annoyance, and he stumbled, dropping the axe.

Dodging the Stinging Hex Macnair flung at him as he recovered, Harry began to throw a laundry list of hexes in Macnair’s general direction, being sure to keep his head down, should the former executioner decide to use a Beheading Charm. Nasty that one was, and one of his old stand-bys. Harry soon took a Burning Hex to the side, hard, and he fell to his knees clutching his abdomen. 

Macnair gave a cruel laugh. “I am going to enjoy breaking you, Potter. Then I’m going to take turns with Lucius while your friend upstairs watches. If he’s still alive, that is.”

Anger boiled in Harry’s chest and in one short burst of fury and shouted curses, he hit Macnair with a Crucio, followed by the penultimate Sectumsempra. Once Macnair lay sprawled on his back, choking on his own blood, Harry approached, voice ragged and wand drawn.

“Fuck you, Macnair.”

Macnair simply gurgled at him, the sticky redness trickling from him seemingly at all points. His look of resignation turned to one of confusion and then cold fury as Harry performed a blood clotting spell, then a simple Binding Spell.

“I’ll see you rot in prison before I let you die at my hand,” Harry answered Macnair’s silent accusation. “You’re just not worth it.”

Harry pocketed Macnair’s wand and retrieved his cloak from the floor, unlocking the door before heading in the direction of the foreman’s office. He had to find Zach.

*** 

The flickering candle light on the dusty windows clashed harshly with the anguished screams Harry could hear as he approached the room. Finding relief in the fact that this, at least, meant Zach was still alive, Harry braced himself for another serious clash, one he might not necessarily get out of. While Lucius didn’t have the raw magical power Voldemort had had, he was more clever by a mile, and the fastest Harry had ever seen with a wand.

The door was still ajar, making it all too easy for Harry to witness the scene now taking place in the makeshift boudoir. The boy from earlier was gone, and Malfoy stood over Zach, pointing his wand down at him as Zach writhed in pain. The whimpers and moans Zach made as he choked on his own tongue and saliva made the corners of Harry's vision go fuzzy from revulsion, guilt and, above all, rage.

“Get off him, Malfoy!” Harry shouted, bursting into the room and aiming his wand straight for Lucius' heart, biting his lip to hold back the Avada Kedavra he so desperately wanted to use.

He was met with merely an amused chuckle and the quirk of Lucius' upper lip. “Harry, my boy, come to join us?” He ended the Cruciatus Curse with a flourish of his wand. Zach moaned with relief before rising on his haunches and retching over the floor. 

“Your friend Smith here has certainly enjoyed himself.” Lucius moved toward him, cruel smile in place. “And you're just in time for the main event. You'd look so lovely sucking my cock, Harry. Or riding my cane while I take him.”

“Fuck. You,” Harry ground out, tightening his grip on his wand.

“Oh, no, I don't think you'll be doing any of that. Though I'd be happy to let you fuck him. Is that it? How possessive of you. Almost... cute.” 

Shit. With Lucius aiming his wand at Zach, there was nothing Harry could do without Lucius acting, as well. What Harry needed was something to distract Lucius, give Zach a chance to escape. 

“So Lucius,” Harry began, mock-conversationally. “This is where you've been keeping yourself?" Harry let his eyes flit over the room and then sneered. "Seems rather pathetic. What does it feel like to have fallen so far you have to fuck some Muggle in an abandoned warehouse?"

"Oh, but he moaned so prettily, Potter, as you clearly noticed," Lucius said silkily and Harry cursed inwardly for opening himself up to that attack. "No wonder you were so anxious to get back up here, afraid you'd miss the second show. Like I said, I'm happy to enjoy both of you, though I'm rather looking forward to him." Lucius prodded Zach in the abdomen with his boot, and Zach whimpered, his face set with pain. 

"Got a thing for blonds, Lucius?," Harry asked cooly. "Or is it just boys? Must run in the family."

Cold eyes returned Harry's stare and Harry thought he saw a slight flush spread across Lucius' cheek.

"And what about you, Harry?" Lucius said with only the hint of a waver in his voice. "Did you ever manage to fuck that mangy mutt of a Godfather? I always reckoned you wanted to. Pity he's dead, though that would make for some rather interesting scenarios."

Harry balled his hands into fists to stop them shaking and ignored Lucius' attempt to bait him. "God, you are pathetic, Lucius. Using Sirius against me? You can be more creative than that. I've got dead parents, mentors, friends and lovers for you to use to antagonise me. Why don't you give them a try?"

"Oh, you have become bitter, Potter," Lucius drawled.

"No, I've just dealt with enough depraved fuckers like you to learn a little control."

"And yet you haven't learned not to walk into situations you can't handle. I'm finally going to do what the Dark Lord couldn't, Potter. Not that they'll be able to differentiate between your parts and his." His gaze flicked down at Zach.

"If you touch him, I swear I'll..."

"You'll what? Kill me? I'd like to see you try. You're a spineless little thing, Potter. I will never understand how you defeated him."

"Oh, I had help. From people like your son. Smart enough to know a meglomaniac when they saw one."

"My son? He was weaker than you are. A total disgrace," Lucius sneered, but Harry could hear his voice falter, see that he'd hit a sore spot. So he decided to exploit it.

"Weak? I guess, if you call having the sweetest mouth in the Order weak. We were quite happy to have him, literally." 

By now Zach had rolled over and was looking at Harry as though he were crazy. Lucius' wand hand started to shake, his face contorted with building rage. And maybe a little fear.

"I mean," Harry continued, surprised to receive no retort from Lucius, "he was a right pouf, that's for sure. Always looked as if he were gagging for it. I fucked him once, and when he came, all he could do was cry about how disappointed his Daddy would be. If only he knew what a hypocrite you are." 

The Cruciatus that hit him shot blinding pain through his entire body and he dropped to his knees. It was enough, however, to allow Zach access to the spare wand – Macnair’s – sticking out of Harry’s pocket. Harry didn’t know what curse Zach fired at Malfoy, but when he came out of the fog of pain, Lucius was lying across the room, sprawled unnaturally and bleeding.

“Fuck, Zach, is he dead?”

“Shouldn’t be, the bastard," Zach spat. "But I used a pretty nasty cocktail on him. Bind him, though.” He clutched his chest and starting hacking.

Harry threw the Binding Spell at Malfoy, who moaned but did not stir, and turned his attentions to Zach. “Are you okay?” He tried to inject an air of partnerly concern into his voice, but he knew he was failing miserably. Giving up the pretense, he rubbed Zach’s back as he rode out the harsh coughs and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Fucker used an Asphyxiation Charm on me. But I’m fine.” He offered Harry a weak smile before fingering the gash on Harry's chest. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine. Macnair just got a little curse-happy.” Harry frowned, taking in Zach’s state. “You need medical attention, Zach.”

“No, I just need this," Zach said firmly before pulling Harry to him and pressing their lips together. His breath still coming in shaky spurts, he breathed erractically into Harry's mouth, but he was warm and his lips pliant, and as Zach grabbed him firmly round the waist and slipped his tongue into Harry's mouth, Harry couldn't help but groan. 

They broke apart a moment later, a line of spit trailing from their now-red and swollen lips. “I thought you had a girlfriend,” Harry ventured quietly.

“Was bollocks. ‘ve had a hard-on for you for ages,” Zach answered, smiling, though it faded quickly. "Did you really fuck Draco Malfoy?"

"What?" Harry asked, confused.

"That's what you said. To him."

Cupping his hands round Zach's jaw, Harry forced him to meet his eyes. "No. It was just strategy, Zach. I swear."

They looked at each other another minute and Harry tried to communicate all the things he wasn't sophisticated enough to put into words. Zach swallowed hard and blinked, moving his head away.

"Good," he barked weakly. "If he'd touched you, I would have hexed his balls off."

He tried to grin, but broke into another fit of coughing instead. Harry held him against his chest tightly, rubbing soothing circles on his back before Zach slumped against him, passed out from pain.

“Zach? ZACH?” Harry shook him, but he was out cold.

Then he heard shouting in the distance. More Death Eaters? He pondered, but when one of them called out his name, he knew it must be Kingsley and the others.

“In here!” he cried out, laying Zach out gently on the floor before getting to his feet. They found him a moment later, the group of four familiar faces – Kingsley, Moody, Tonks and Dawlish – and Harry let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

“Zach, he’s…” Harry trailed off, simply waving in Zach’s general direction. Kingsley and Tonks moved to his side while Moody hobbled over to Lucius’ prone form, the look of triumph evident even with the heavily scarred flesh of his face.

Kingsley and Tonks conferred in low voices before starting off with a series of elementary Healing Spells. Harry just stared blankly at his bosses’ efforts to revive Zach as he relived in his mind the last ten minutes, especially the kiss, and considered the fact that he could lose him. Fifteen minutes of Cruciatus could induce some serious damage. The-Longbottoms-catatonic-in-St.-Mungo’s kind of damage.

Dawlish suddenly appeared before him, waving a hand in front of his face. 

“Harry, you okay?”

“Yes, yes. But Zach -”

“We've got him. Tell me, Harry, what happened?”

Harry swallowed hard and focused past Dawlish to where Kingsley and Tonks were tending to Zach, who was bleeding and wheezing and generally looking pretty badly done up. 

“I, um. We.” He swallowed again and took a deep breath. “Zach entered from the west, me from the east. He took out three Death Eaters on the lower west level; I Stunned one other plus had a go at Macnair. He’s down in the room directly below us. We went at Malfoy together, but Malfoy he -” Harry fought the bile rising in his throat, “he Stunned me, must have done the Cruciatus Curse while I was unconscious. When I came to, Zach and I took him down together.” 

It was all blatant lies, but there was no way Harry was passing this without Zach. They needed to finish this together. If Zach got through this. Harry bit his lip and tried not to cry.

 

**Initiation**

The bathroom tile felt cold and damp against Harry's cheek and he puffed hot breaths against the blue-flecked porcelain as Zacharias' tongue worked itself inside Harry's arse.

“Jesus fuck, why I have I never done this?”

“Maybe because you're a fucking prude,” Zacharias mumbled, nipping at Harry's arse lightly with his teeth before plunging his tongue back in.

“'m not a prude,” Harry protested half-heartedly. “Love sex. Love – fuck, yes – love that. God, please tell me you have lube.”

Zach pulled back. “What, my tongue's not enough?”

“I haven't bottomed in more than a year. So, no, your tongue's not enough.”

“The Great Harry Potter is going to bottom, just for me? I'm honoured.”

“Shut it, Zach. If you want to fuck me, just... shut up and fuck me. And get lube.”

The tongue laving at his arse stopped. 

“Hand soap?” Zach questioned.

“ _Hand soap_?!”

“It's an old classic, for the man about town shagging in a loo.”

“We're _wizards_ Zach, conjure some fucking lube.”

“Oh. Right.”

A whispered spell and there were two slick fingers up his arse and a hot mouth on his neck.

“Fuck that feels good,” Harry moaned, prostrating himself further up against the wall. “How'd you get so good with your fingers?”

“Lots and lots of practice,” Zach said, grinning against the bare skin of Harry's shoulder.

“Mmmmnnnn. I can't tell you how horny it got me seeing you suck off that john,” Harry mumbled. “Fuckin' hell I wanted to be him. With your mouth on my cock, my balls, fingers in my arse.”

“You were watching, you kinky bastard?” Zach bit lightly at the juncture between his neck and shoulder and added another finger. “God that's hot." 

"How the hell did he pick you up with your Lust Repelling Charm on anyway?" Harry asked, driving himself back onto Zach's fingers.

"Took it off. Had been fucking horny for days, watching you play the rentboy. Needed to put my mouth on someone's cock. Pity he didn't want to fuck me, would've liked that."

Harry groaned at the image that produced and then again as he felt a third finger tease at his entrance. 

"Fuck, Zach. I really wish we'd got to all this a bit sooner," Harry groaned, as Zach tried and failed several times to manoeuvre the third finger alongside the other two. "I wanked myself raw thinking about you and your businessman. God, and those fucking shorts you wore. And after the car." 

"Likewise." Zach finally, but just barely, managed to get three fingers inside Harry. "Jesus fuck, you're tight."

"I don't usually bottom." 

“Well, when you're shagging blokes like Terry, it's not hard to see why. That one was born to bottom.” Harry could feel him grinning against his neck as he tongued along the damp skin in time with his fingers as they pistoned in and out of his hole.

“Bloody hell, Zach, you fucked Terry?”

Zach withdrew his fingers.

“So did you!”

“He's my ex!”

“Yeah, mine too.”

“Bastard,” Harry replied petulantly, followed by a whinging sound as he squirmed a bit, seeking Zacharias' fingers again. Instead, a moment later he felt the tip of Zach's cock nudge against his hole.

“Oh, lighten up, Harry. We shagged, like, twice. And thus far you're shaping up to be a much better fuck so, really, you win in the end.” He kissed Harry's jaw and slowly pushed in, using one hand to guide his cock and the other to keep Harry steady. 

Harry couldn't help panting heavily against the bathroom tile as Zach's cock breached him. It may have only been a year, but it might as well have been the first time with how tight and unrelenting his muscles were. Sensing Harry's tension, Zach whispered a second lubrication spell and suddenly his cock was moving faster, more easily and Harry couldn't help groaning at the new, pleasant pressure.

Bouncing back to the topic at hand, Harry ground out with a light tone, “Did you shag Terry before or after you broke up with your imaginary girlfriend?”

“She wasn't,” Zach pistoned his hips forward, seating himself in Harry completely and making him gasp, “my imaginary girlfriend.” He withdrew half-way. “She was – ” and thrust back in sharply, drawing another moan from Harry, “my beard. There's a difference.”

“Oh?” Harry asked, breathlessly as Zach picked up a rhythm.

“Yes. An imaginary girlfriend doesn't exist. A beard conveniently turns up to social events to alleviate rumours of sexual orientation.”

“I still don't understand – oh, fuck, yes like that – why you needed a beard. You're obviously gay – fuckin' hell, Zach!” Harry went limp against the wall as Zach grazed his prostate. He'd forgotten how glorious the little fucker was.

“I wasn't always. And maybe I just didn't want everyone to know. Or you to know. Shit you're tight, Harry!”

“Me?”

“Yes, you're tight,” Zach joked, smacking his arse lightly. Then he said, more seriously, “Didn't want you to think we should hook up, just because we're the only two queers on the Auror Department.”

“Zach, we're not the only two queers in the department. Don't be an idiot. But, fucking Christ, do do that again. Harder.”

Zach complied, thrusting into Harry at a breakneck speed, pushing him flush against the wall. Harry turned his head and met Zach in a frenzied kiss. 

Zach panted against Harry's lips, continuing the string of conversation. “I liked you, okay? But I didn't want you to know it. I thought... well, I thought you were different – an arsehole, really. So I made up a girlfriend to put you off. I'm sorry.”

“Don't be sorry, Zach. Just fuck me.”

Zach grinned and lunged forward again, driving into Harry's arse ao that on every thrust his pelvis smacked against Harry's tailbone. After several minutes of concentrated fucking, every inch of Harry's body felt overly sensitive and he knew his orgasm was looming.

"Oh, fuck, Zach, slow down!" 

“Can't. Initiation's in ten.”

“Remind me why we decided to do this now?” Harry asked. They really should have shagged after Zach was released from St. Mungo’s. Or _while_ he was in St. Mungo’s. They would have to play "Healer and patient" sometime, for sure.

“I almost died without shagging you first. That is just not on.”

Harry laughed. He couldn't argue with that.

***

“And so we'd like to welcome these four fine candidates into the venerable ranks of the British Aurors. Please give them a round of applause,” Kingsley finished, smiling broadly at Harry, Zach, Ron and Susan as he presented them to the substantial crowd of friends, family and active Aurors.

Taking the Sonorous Charm off his voice box, Kingsley stepped towards them and addressed them personally. “Now, if you four would follow me, I'll give you your long-term partner assignments.”

The four of them followed Kingsley back to his office, Harry and Zach hanging in the back, surreptitiously allowing their hands to brush against each other. God, Harry couldn't wait to take him home and catch up on all the shagging they’d been missing out on this past year. Hell, all the shagging they’d missed out on in the last five years.

Kingsley stood behind his desk, facing them. “Bones, Weasley,” he barked. “You two will be assigned to the units that best utilise your skills. Bones you’ll be with Tonks and the stealth unit, Weasley you’ll be with Dawlish on strategy and interrogation.” He paused, turning to Zach and Harry, who hastily stopped playing footsy with each other. 

“Smith and Potter. You two seem to work best in the field. You’ll both be working on general investigations, as they come. That’s all; you’re dismissed.” 

Susan and Ron started moving towards the door, but Harry remained where he was, confused.

“Wait, sir. Who are we assigned to, then?”

Kingsley looked at him questioningly. “Each other, Potter. I thought that was clear.”

“You want us to work together. Permanently?” Zach chimed in, the disbelief apparent in his voice.

“Yes. If you can manage that.”

“Um, yeah, I guess.” Harry shrugged his affirmation, trying very hard not to start grinning like an idiot. Zach looked like he was doing the same.

Harry wondered if it went against Ministry protocol to shag your partner rotten. But then again, he reckoned anything not covered in their modules was fair game. He gave up suppressing the grin.

“Well,” Harry started, getting up. “I think I’ll just pop off to the loo.” He set Zach with a pointed look and got a grin for response.

Everything about being an Auror was suddenly looking like a lot more fun. 

_finis_


End file.
